It was a quiet thought
Like the shadow August moons
Keep under the broken wing
Of lonesome fruit bats
It was a lost name
Left in secret meadows
That wore the scent August rain gives
To untaken paths
Of lonesome souls
It was a stone that rolled
Hoping for an unplanned ride
Through the ordinary
It was a quiet thought
March 30, 2024
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024
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